


Gray on a Blue Day

by Shanrocks



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M, Word Play, john really loves paul's eyes ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shanrocks/pseuds/Shanrocks
Summary: Paul's eyes as seen through John's eyes.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	Gray on a Blue Day

They’re brown today. Full of warmth and sweetness like a batch of chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven. Brown days are good days. Means Paul’s happy and content, mischievous and playful. Means there will be lots of touching, reassuring contact. Snatches of whispered secrets and sweet, sappy promises. I love days when they’re brown. I’m able to drown in twin saucers of rich, dark coffee, and let them bring me to life while I drink in the heat.

Sometimes they’re blue. So bright and inviting. So achingly similar to crisp, still waters in a crystal clear lake, or the wide open cloudless sky during a sweltering Liverpool summer day. Paul’s feisty on days they’re blue. Crazy and unpredictable, but in a good sort of way. Never a dull moment during blue days. Never a dull night either. Like nights when the room glows soft sapphire in the moonlight as he arches under me, through me. Pleasure searing slick and deep, dancing and simmering blue-hot, like the base of a flickering candle flame.

Yesterday they were green. Not emerald, or pine, or rolling hills of Ireland kind of green. Just a tiny oasis secreted within a thick forest, pastel grasses touched by soft breezes and lazy afternoon sunshine kind of green. Somewhere I can hide away, get lost in him, get lost in each other. Sometimes I do. Get lost, that is. Dive right into that swirling tide of the sea after a storm. Let the insistent pull of the current that is Paul take me wherever it will. 

Then there are days I wish to wipe away. I gasp powerlessly in whirlpools of turmoil when they’re gray on a blue day. Even Paul gets depressed sometimes. Charming cherub features eclipsed and shaded by dismal and dreary clouds of doubt. Days when he seems most distant, so difficult to find as if a shadow in fading light, colorless as stone and just as hard. Days he shuts me outside, locks the doors and windows, and I can only stare helplessly at the black and white…and gray.

But most of the time the color is boundless. A multi-hued swirl of browns and blues, greens and grays more exciting than hazel. A limitless, complex maze of light and dark, joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, love and…love. A color so rich and infinite there is only one name to encompass it. 

Paul. 

And all I have to do is look. Search the windows to his soul in the throes of passion. Or seek out the slightest twinkle during a barely whispered kiss. He’s able to tell me his every mood, every fear, every wish, every desire without speaking a single word. And each day, no matter the tint or shade staring back at me, I know that I am cherished. It’s all right there in the endless depths of his kaleidoscope eyes.


End file.
